Pen and Paper
by Quil Explodes
Summary: After Claire's mother freaks and moves her family to New York, Claire doesn't see Quil until she's almost eighteen. All they have are their letters, pen and paper. First part made up entirely of letters. Q/C
1. Chapter 1

Well all right, so I've been foolish.  
Well all right, let people know  
About the dreams and wishes that you wish  
In the night when lights are low.

Well all right, well all right,  
You know we live and love with all our might.  
Well all right, well all right,  
You know our lifetime love will be all right.

Well all right, so I'm not working.  
Well all right, let people say  
That those foolish kids can't be ready  
For the love that comes their way.

--Well...All Right by Blind Faith

Dear Claire,

I don't even know if you're reading this, so why am I writing it? It just seems like what I _should_ do, and Jake's always says I'm electronically challenged and I'm hopeless with email. Do you email?

Why am I asking you this? You're not going to respond to this letter--am I even going to send it? You don't know me, I don't know you, even though I feel like I do...but it's a cloudy sort of knowing, twice removed. Seeing what Emily sees through Sam. And he doesn't get the full story--it's just words. I need so much more than words.

Jake and Embry are watching me and I can tell they want to tell me to stop, but I just can't. There's no harm, really--whereas, if I don't, well...

You don't need to hear about that. You're still young, still happy...hopefully. It's been a long time since I've seen you, but I still remember you, and maybe you remember me?

Embry says to say hi to you for him. How much I wish I could, really, say hi to you, for me too. And now Jake's rolling his eyes at my face, because I'm sure I look just pathetic.

I hope you're happy, wherever you are. See, how am I even going to send this? I don't have an address. I'll ask Emily to send it, but who knows if she will? She's always looking at me like...well, she _is_ sorry for me, sure...

I'm so tired of people feeling sorry for me.

Anyways. I hope you have lots of friends, who you like, and I hope your sister's not being too mean to you.

Sorry this is so short. Sam wants me to go, now...but I'll keep writing. Maybe you'll even write back...but probably not. You probably won't even get this. And if you do, I don't blame you for tossing it in the trash the second you see it. If your mom doesn't first, when she sees who it's from.

Don't let her tell you who to trust, Claire. I'm not telling you to not trust her, but meet the people first before you make a judgement. Because I think she's telling you stuff about Jake and Embry and everyone else, bad things, and...I don't know if you should trust me, but _they're_ pretty cool.

Embry's complaining about my adjectives. Says "cool" is not nearly enough. He's right. (And now he's all smug.)

I don't know what she's telling you about me, but...

Just listen to yourself. Not in a crazy way, just...trust yourself, Claire.

So anyway, now it's longer, but I still really have to go.

I'm so sorry, Claire. I'll wait for your reply but don't feel bad if you don't want to write back. That's okay. I'll understand.

Quil.

--

Quil--

I'm sorry it took so long for me to respond to your letter. It's hard writing even now, even after so long. (I'm ashamed of how long it took me. Almost a year! I'm so sorry.)

Breaking my arm isn't an excuse, I know. I could have typed it. But I wanted to send you a letter that I actually wrote...like you did. Because I really enjoyed yours, even though I have no idea who you are.

But it feels like I know you, even from just one letter. It was funny, by the way, your letter. Jake and Embry, whoever they are, sound like a huge laugh.

No, I don't do email. My friends think I'm crazy, but hey. It just seems so impersonal...this is much nicer.

Say hi to Embry for me, Jacob too.

I'm not that young. But yeah, I think my mom said some stuff about some guys when I asked her about La Push (Julie told me about it)...she got pretty mad. So yeah, I think I will take your advice, as random as it seemed.

--Claire

--

Dear Claire,

You don't have to be sorry. I know you're probably busy--New York's much more exciting than La Push. But you broke your arm? How? Are you okay?

I'm looking back and thinking that my letter was a bit...confusing? Strange? Random? Awkward?

I'm so sorry--I just, when I was writing it, I never thought I'd actually send it. But of course Embry had to blab to Emily about it...I think she loves you so much she doesn't want to keep it from you...

I kicked Embry out a while ago, so he wouldn't bug me when I write this. But he'll be back soon enough...he's too lazy to make his own food, and Emily got tired of cooking for him.

Does this bore you? I don't know--hearing about people you don't know? (Except for Emily.) I just don't know what to tell you, there's so much, yet nothing I actually can.

But Claire--please don't write me if you feel you have to. I'd never want you to do something you didn't want to...you always have a choice. Remember that. You always have a choice.

Quil.

--

Quil--

See? If I keep going at this rate, I'll be writing faster than I can think.

It's not boring. I like hearing about La Push--Julie all but tortures me with the little she can remember, which isn't much...you can tell me more. All you want. Please.

And New York isn't all that interesting. Sure, it's New York--but I hate big cities. And New York is just one big city. Well, technically more than one, but--

You get the point.

How'd I break my arm? Uh...I was on a swing. And I kind of jumped off it...I was just being stupid. But it's better now, or it has been for a while.

I guess if you're telling me about La Push, I can tell you about New York...but there's nothing to tell. I can try to think, if you want. But I don't know why you'd want to hear anything about this place.

--Claire

--

Claire,

Of course I want to hear stuff about New York. I've never been. What's it like?

You don't have to ask things like that, Claire. Tell me anything you want. I won't...care if it's strange at all. Or whatever it might be.

Embry's got another girlfriend. It's like he's taken everyone Jake should be with and him put together. I feel sorry for those girls.

He's not bad. Maybe I made it sound bad...he's just...

Well, anyways. He just hasn't found anyone right yet, I guess.

But it was sort of funny, this switch. We were all in Sam and Emily's backyard having dinner (we can't all fit in the house) and Embry brought his girlfriend, and then this guy walked by, and he started yelling at her. Embry didn't really seem to care, so Seth asked him what he wanted, and it turned out he didn't know she...had a boyfriend, while Embry didn't know this guy existed.

So when he found out the girl was cheating on him...well, it wasn't funny at the time. But now, thinking back...even Embry started cracking up as soon as they left, the girl and the other guy.

Anyway, Embry's sort of a strange person, so he went to the bar in Forks and just like that, came home with a different girl.

I don't know how he does it. Or why, rather.

Quil.

--

Quil--

It sounds like it was hilarious. When you explain it, I can almost picture it. Apart from the fact that I've never seen anything you've talked about.

Why does he do it? And why does Jake not?

What about you?

--Claire

--

Claire,

Jake just...

He had a bad experience with someone, and he's not to eager for it to happen again. Embry didn't seem to learn from Jake's mistake.

Please don't ask about me. I wouldn't know what to say to you.

What about you?

Quil.

--

Quil--

Our letters are getting shorter and shorter. It's almost a waste of stamps. Almost, because, of course it's not.

What was Jake's mistake? I'm sorry, I don't know if you said...

Me?

I have nothing to tell you. Absolutely nothing. Apart from telling you that I have nothing to tell you. If that counts.

I can tell you about other people, though I doubt you care. My friend Annabel's sort of like you say Embry is, only probably less. And she's a girl. I don't get it either, why they would do that. What's the point, if it doesn't _mean_ anything?

Julie's also got a boyfriend. I think pretty much everyone has one.

--Claire

--

Claire,

We're gossiping like a couple of old women sitting in front of a window with their knitting. Embry is going to kill me.

You want it to mean something?

Jake? His mistake was falling in love with someone he could never have.

I haven't got a boyfriend.

Quil.

--

Quil--

Yeah, I guess I want it to mean something. But it seems like it will never happen.

You can tell me anything, anything at all. It doesn't have to be about boys.

Yeah, well, ha ha, you don't have a boyfriend. I haven't got one either. But what about you? What do you do?

--Claire

--

Claire,

I dunno, I might, right? I mean, other than the fact that I said I didn't. But no. No I actually couldn't.

Me? What do I do? Some sort of protection, you know, for the rez. With Embry and Jake and Sam.

Well. Now that you mention it, a very exciting thing happened to me today. I was at Sam and Emily's and I was eating some...food. Some bread and cheese-type-stuff and all this other stuff I don't remember. Emily was asking me about you and how you're doing (she knows I'm writing to you) and...

Oh, shit, this looks even worse than it sounded in my head. And it sounded pretty bad in my head.

To make a long story short, nothing happened. At all.

Quil.

--

Quil--

Protection? Isn't that kind of dangerous?

Okay, well...Today my English teacher picked up my desk and shook me around in it (you know how the chairs are connected to the tables) and everyone was laughing. That was the most eventful thing that happened. And it was only because I asked a question!

Are you at Sam and Emily's a lot? How are they, and Cassie, and...?

You know how you said I had a choice? A long time ago, you probably don't remember.

I don't.

I don't feel when my mom all but explodes whenever I mention La Push because I just can't stop thinking about it, when my dad goes all oblivious and hides in his office and my sister just laughs at me...I just have to live life how it is and I can't change anything. It's so helpless, Quil, you ever felt that, just not being able to do anything? I'm not even going to mention school--but I'm sure you know all about that. I bet school's the same where ever you are, just La Push has more air.

I'm suffocating, Quil, and I don't even know why but you're the only person I don't dread thinking about. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and it's horrible because I know I don't even have it that bad--I have a roof over my head and food to eat and clothes and a family and electricity and a toilet--

I'm sorry, I don't know if I should have even written that, but I don't have an eraser and I don't want to erase it anyways and I'm writing in pen. It's too true, and I don't want to lie to you. It feels like I know you, and maybe I do. Can you know a person you've never seen?

Wait--you said you saw me, once? In one of your letters...

Do you think you can do something for me, Quil? Can you just describe it--when you saw me? It was in La Push, right? I just want to know I was there. It seems like I never was and it's weird I know but I want to be able to say...just...really describe it, can you? Do you remember? All the details.

Thank you so much,

--Claire

--

Oh, Claire...

You have no idea how much I want to--you to come here, to see you again...it does hurt, Claire, it hurts so much...

Yeah, I know the feeling. Everything's just going wrong and--you're wrong.

Sometimes La Push has no air. But I still live, and sometimes when there's no air I almost wish I could just stop living because there's nothing worse than living without air.

Well, there is, it's living without--

Anyways, Claire, sure I'll tell you.

It was at Sam and Emily's house. That little yellow house, with the white shutters and flowers and it's just so _cheery_. It hurts when I go there now--too happy. too many memories. Or rather, one.

So yeah, I was at Sam's house, with Embry and Jake and Paul and Jared and Sam of course, and some of the other guys. (Well, also Leah. She's a girl, obviously. Doesn't like to be called a guy.) So we were there, and we were just eating and joking and talking--teasing Jake about his girl problems, though now I regret it, after seeing what she's done to him and...yeah. Emily comes home.

Dun dun dun. Emily comes home. The house explodes. Monsters pour out. Like in that movie, what's it called...it's the cliffhanging ending that never really--

Well, not really. Emily comes home with you and Julie and your mom (I think your dad was...looking for a house in La Push? or something...) and she comes in and introduces your mom to us...you and Julie had run off somewhere. I wasn't too concerned.

But then later, Emily made some food, invited your mom to stay--apparently your dad was in Port Angeles and staying for dinner with a friend. I remember what it was...this fish, and mashed potatoes...salad...and she had made cookies--her cookies were always so good. Still are.

Anyway. Obviously, you and your sister came in to eat, and your mom picked you up and--and...

Yeah, I saw you. Pretty anti-climactic, huh? But there you were, in your mom's arms, and I just...

Dammit, Claire, I can't describe it. I suck at writing things that can never be put into words. And it can't. The fact that no one's ever tried say that without words. I could show you. I definitely could show you, if you were just here. I want to so badly, so much want to show you what it felt like, to be all but knocked off your feet, feeling like the world's realigning itself.

Did I put in enough detail? I don't know what's important to you...I only know what's important to me and I guess that's what's important to you because everyone always says you're the most important person to yourself even though there's no way that's true for me, and god Claire I can't think about that day anymore, it's just because I can picture you sitting reading this and--I can just...just imagine if I wasn't writing you, I was actually _telling_ you, and...and you were _there_, right there, I could _see_ you...

Yeah.

Quil.

--

Claire--

Shit, Claire, I can't believe I sent you that. Please, _please_ don't read it. Just throw it out, I'll write you another version, without the--

Shit. Throw it out. Don't even open it.

I hope my faith in the United States Postal Service has been wrong. I hope they've lost it or something.

--Quil

--

Quil...

I'm so sorry, I read it. I got your note after the other letter came...but I don't really get why you didn't want me to read it. Am I missing something? It seemed a bit...you don't need to tell me everything, Quil, I know that, I shouldn't have asked you to. You have your own life and why are you even writing me? I'm across the country, I've seen you once, I'm just some random girl who just happens to be your friend's wife's sister's daughter.

Doesn't that sound distant.

Seriously, Quil, how old are you? You couldn't have remembered it that clearly if you'd been anywhere close to my age...okay, you don't need to answer that. Really.

I guess I don't really know you. I was stupid to think that a few written words meant anything.

Why do you even care? I need answers, but I don't want to ask. You don't have to tell me. You don't owe me anything.

Remember when you said I have a choice? Well, you do too. Use that choice, Quil, and don't write me if you don't want to.

--Claire

--

Claire,

If you have any idea how much that hurt you wouldn't have said that. I'm sorry for all the pain I've put you through, all the confusing things I've said...I don't have a choice, Claire. I really don't. But I still like doing this and I would anyways and yeah, I don't have a choice, but that doesn't matter, just some...

I guess I would say I'm sixteen. That's the most accurate, I think. But trust me when I say it doesn't matter?

Doesn't it count that we're friends? Are we? As much as we can be. We'd still be writing to each other if Sam and Emily decided to move to Timbuktu.

Emily's going to New York next week, did you know? She wouldn't let me come. She said she didn't think your mom would appreciate that very much. I don't really care, actually. I'm past the point of caring.

Emily said she'd take you back with her if your mom said it was okay. Please try to convince her.

If you come I can tell you, Sam said. I can tell you and I want so much to tell you, but Sam wants to be sure you'll--stick around. He doesn't want you...I don't know, I think he's paranoid.

But please Claire, I need to see you, and please don't think that's...creepy or anything...because I promise it isn't. If that's any comfort.

Quil.

--

Quil--

I forgot to tell you in my last letter...

I'm kind of hesitant to, but I want to talk to someone who isn't...here.

There's this boy. Right? And he's...well, you know the star-football-player-hottest-guy-in-school-etc-etc cliche? Yeah, well, he's kind of like that, only he doesn't play football. All the girls are obsessed with him.

And he asked me out.

I know he doesn't actually like me--how could he? I'm scared he's just doing it to...use me or something, like Julie's always warning me about, but I'd never thought would actually happen to me...

Really, there's no other explanation.

But anyway, Quil, if you want, can you maybe give me some advice?

--Claire

--

Claire,

Of course I'll give you advice. I just don't know if you should listen to it.

If you like him, then...I guess you should say yes.

Unless he's really what Julie says, in which case you should...not. Say yes, I mean.

I don't want anything to happen to you, but I want you to be happy, too. If this guy makes you happy, don't throw it away, your chance.

Quil.

--

Dear Quil,

Thanks, a lot. It really means a lot that you can help me with something like that, even though you live across the country.

Of course I'll try to convince her. I mean, Emily. You know I've wanted nothing else, since I can remember. It's like there's an empty space in me and as corny as it sounds, La Push seems like the...filling, or something.

Well anyway. I just have to go and make this even more awkward.

Emily's coming tomorrow. I'm asking my mom tonight. If you don't hear from me, you know why...

--Claire

--

Quil--

She said no, big surprise. But I'm sixteen--just a few more years, right? Oh god I can't wait.

--Claire

--

Quil.

I feel like such a...I don't even know what. You're probably too busy to respond to any of this anyway.

Oh well. I can still write you, can't I? Even if you don't respond. Like you said in that first letter.

It's just that you know how I said everything sucked, big time? Well, it's getting worse. At least before...I had friends. Right? Sure, they still talk to me...if I don't talk back. They hate me for screwing up my chance with--it wasn't even _my_ chance, it was just so they could be connected. You know that guy I told you about? Well...

Julie was right, I guess that's the way I knew it was, only...I wanted a chance, like you said, and I was stupid to think that he's it.

I _didn't_ want to do it, Quil, I _didn't_ want to go out with him, and now it's so...I can't stand it Quil, I can't even tell anyone and I think I might go insane. You said to listen to myself--all those years ago when you wrote that first letter to me.

Shit, now I'm crying. Can you read this or is it too splotchy? But there's no way I can rewrite it.

I can't believe I was such an idiot. Maybe it would have been better to just give up? Let him--I can't even imagine, so--I would never, I couldn't...

I would buy myself a ticket over there but the damn airline said you need permission from an adult. Think you can convince Emily to call them and pretend she's my mom? Yeah, right. Fat chance. Maybe I'll hitch-hike. Right. And have more replays of yesterday.

New York is hell, Quil, I need out.

I don't even understand why he wanted to--why he--tried that! I'm not even that pretty or anything! I don't even have...anything! Or at least not as much as some people. I stick out like a sore thumb. Quileutes don't belong in New York, Quil.

And now I can't believe I'm talking about this with you.

--Claire

--

Claire,

I can't even imagine how to help you but I can't even think about doing anything but that.

Who is he? Can I kill him?

What did he do? Did he hurt you? Shit Claire I can't stand this!

I hate Sam for not letting me leave. And it's not even his fault! Dammit!

Tell me what I can do, Claire. I'll do anything I can.

Jake's telling me to relax but how can I? Knowing that m--that you just...

I have to go. I think I might blackmail Emily into bringing you here. She's going--she's leaving tomorrow.

Quil.

--

Quil!

She's letting me go! Not now, but next time Emily comes, at Easter. Half a year or so. I think when I broke down crying in the middle of dinner that kind of did it.

I really think Emily understands. I have no idea why, but I'm just crying all the time and it hurts so much--nothing's ever hurt as much as this thing I don't even know what it is! Every day it's worse, sometimes I can't even breathe. Emily said something about knowing what it felt like, only I have it "so much worse" and _what is she talking about?_

Quil, you have to tell me when I go. And tell Sam I'm never leaving La Push once I get there, so he can let you tell me.

Do you really want me to tell you? I don't know if you want to hear it. But I will, because you told me what I asked and I don't see why not, other than if someone finds this and--just keep it safe, don't let anyone see. Please?

My "friends" just wanted me to go out with him, and why not? It's not like I'd get another chance and it's _him_, I mean, who _wouldn't_ go out with him? He picked me up, thank god I was alone at home, no one was home, and he took me to this movie (it sucked, just so you know) and then he said, he told me, he told me he thought I was pretty. Me, being the stupid teenager I am, thought that was just wonderful. He took me to his house, and no one was home, again. He asked me if I wanted something to drink, I said sure, he said, coke? I said sure. He didn't say anything, just handed me an open can, I took a sip, it was like fire, and I took another, and another, because it was _good_, and I couldn't think straight, and when he kissed me I couldn't think straight, and his mouth and hands and I couldn't _feel_ anything, except the fire, and it tingled, to the tips of my fingers. He pulled me to his room, shoved me on his bed, and his hands and I hated him and I hated him so much but I couldn't do anything and then his phone rang.

He answered it and pushed me away and I put my shirt back on, put my clothes back, leaned against the wall, but I could hardly see and the door wasn't there and the person on the phone must have said something about me, something bad, because he snapped his phone shut and yanked open the door, there it was, the door, and walked out, yanked my arm, threw me out.

Told you you didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear it. I was such an idiot.

--Claire

--

Claire,

Oh god. Oh god, oh god...no, no, you're not an idiot. Not an idiot. Not your fault, not your fault at all.

I swear to god if I don't see you soon I'm going there, rules be damned, finding you, then finding him and killing him and finding you...

I can't wait until you're coming. Even knowing you'll be in the same state as me helps this unbearable pain a little. I wish--I can't even help you. Just believe me, please, when I say it'll go away when...you come here? I swear it will, I know it will. It has to.

At least when I knew you were happy it was bearable. That maybe you'd be better off without me anyways. But now all I want to do is--

Just can't wait, Claire, I can't wait another few months.

Quil.

--

Dear Quil Ateara,

I don't know who you are or why you're writing to me. I've been sick--in the head? And I don't know what I said to you.

Please don't continue writing to me. I don't know you, and you don't know me, and I don't know what or who you are talking about.

Please stop.

Claire.

--

--

--

--

Quil!

I'm coming! Finally!

I can't wait--we leave tomorrow. I'll probably get there before this does, but I can't help it.

I feel better already, it's like magic.

I'll see you in a few days!

Claire.

--

Quil...

Of course, something has to go wrong. Emily's sick, so we're staying here. Tell Sam she's okay, though? Just a cold, and being the selfless person she is, she doesn't want to infect other people on the plane.

Other than the fact that flying when you're sick sucks, but that's Emily for you.

It's just a bit of a buzz-kill but I know I'll see you and everyone and La Push soon and I can't wait!

--Claire

--

Dear Claire,

Are you sure you want to come?

Do you have multiple personality disorder?

You can't do that to me, Claire. Embry's ready to kill you. But I won't let him.

Can't do that to me, Claire. I don't think I can take it.

Quil.

--

Quil, what are you talking about? I have no idea what you're talking about. Of course I want to come, and no, I don't have multiple personality disorder. As far as I know.

What did I do? I'm so sorry, whatever I did, please forgive me?

We're leaving soon, because Emily's almost better. But if you don't want me to come, I won't.

--Claire

--

Claire,

I want nothing more than for you to come. I'm attaching your other letter--are you sure you remember everything that's happened to you in the last week? Or what you've done...

Quil.

--

Quil--

I swear I'm going to kill her. I can't believe her. I just can't believe her and I'm _so so sorry_ I would _never_ have let her send that, I'm going to _kill_ her...

I'm burning it. It never existed.

I can't believe I'm related to such an asshole.

--Claire

--

Claire,

I knew it wasn't you. The handwriting was a dead giveaway. Of course I knew it wasn't you.

Don't let your sister drive you to homicide, Claire. You'll be out of there in a few...what, days? Sam said you're coming soon.

Just hang on till you get here. Everyone wants to see you so bad. Sam's going on about finally seeing his long-lost niece. It's sort of funny, actually.

Quil.

--

Quil--

We're about to leave for the airport, and I'm sending this now. I know we'll probably beat it there, but I'm sending it anyways.

I really can't believe I'm going, really, finally.

My mom said something to Emily about not letting me bribe you guys into letting me stay for a month, or something.

What she doesn't know is I'm never leaving.

--Claire


	2. Chapter 2

Quil!

I'm so stupid, I know, but I can't help it. Being here is like--it's like my whole life, like I've been there my whole life, and holy shit La Push is beautiful.

I'm not even going to try to say how much I loved seeing you, finally, meeting you, hearing you talk, and when you reached for my hand, just like that...

I can even look back on New York and say, well, it wasn't that bad. Because when I saw you it was like there was this huge unbearable pain that I was carrying around, and suddenly it's...just gone.

I'm going to see you tomorrow, anyways, maybe I'll just drop it in your mailbox. I'd feel kind of stupid putting it in your hands.

--Claire

P.S. I know you said Embry was ridiculous, but I never really imagined...him. Wow.


	3. Chapter 3

Open your eyes.  
Realize you're not dead.  
Take a look at an open book.  
Do what you like, that's what I said.  
Do what you like.

--Do What You Like by Blind Faith

--

"Claire, eat up, you have a big day ahead of you, Quil--_be civil, Seth_--and Sam, won't you tell Cassie to _stop_ _that_--Cassie, stop that..." Emily bustles around the kitchen, looking harried, but smiling widely.

"Big day?" Claire asks. "Doing what?" She glances to the tall, thin--man? boy? She doesn't really know what he is--sitting across from her. Her, like his, plate of food sits untouched.

Claire fidgets when her aunt doesn't answer, wondering if she hasn't spoken loud enough. But she's swooping down over whatever it is Cassie's doing to her little brother, and Claire can't help it when her gaze is dragged back to Quil's dark, open eyes.

Quil doesn't really care that he's staring openly. He thinks he has the right to, and he doesn't care what Sam thinks about that. Let's see him try to go more than fifteen years without _his_ imprint.

He stares openly at her, and then he stares openly into her eyes when she turns and looks at him.

Sam averts his eyes from the pair at the table. Apart from all his grumbling, he can't say how happy he is to have her back. That's why he grumbled. He heard when Emily told him (told him that on no account should he think of this when he was patrolling with Quil because it would kill him) but Claire was really not doing very well in New York.

He wasn't sure she knew it herself, but he could see when they met her at the baggage claim. Emily sighed, Quil let out a cross between a sigh and a moan and a_ohgodwhat_...

When Cassie is safely away from her little brother, Sam feels Emily's hand on his arm, hears her whisper "Let's go."

--

"If you want to...we can go somewhere..." Quil is hesitant, still afraid she might disappear if he moves or talks too abruptly. He feels like he's standing on ice, and he knows he's heavy enough to break it.

"I'd like that."

He manages a smile, the first real one, the first one he's actually _felt_, in a long time, and the corners of her mouth turn upwards a bit. Their feet brush under the table.

"Where are you thinking of?" She asks after a few minutes.

"Are you done eating?"

She nods a mute _yes_.

"We can go now, then."

He stands and she follows him out the door. He turns halfway to face her. "Do you mind walking, or should we drive?"

"I don't mind." His hand reaches for hers and he lets out a barely audible sigh. It was amazing, what just that touch did. She said she never knew she was carrying that pain--well, he knew all too well, and if it was the only thing that helped it, he wasn't going to not hold her hand.

--

"Quil?"

"Yeah?" He closes his eyes briefly at the sound of her voice. How much he imagined her speaking the words he read from her hand, and now it's just..._there_.

_She's_ just there.

"Why is it that...why when I..." She bites her lip and throws him a look.

"Yeah, I kind of have something to tell you."

"Okay." She waits, patiently, for him to talk.

He takes a deep breath. "Dammit, I've waited half my life for this and now I can't even say anything."

"It's okay, you can wait till you can."

"No, no, I have to..." He runs a hand through his hair. "Oh, Claire," he whispers. Just to say her name, like that, _to_ _her_...

It all boils down to her being there.

"So when I saw you, before, you were two--" He stops, thinking he's started completely wrong. "See, I'm kind of--oh, shit. Okay. Have you ever heard the Quileute legends? Well, you probably haven't, but--"

"Emily told them to me once, when she was visiting."

"Oh. Okay. Well, that makes things easier." He falls silent. He reminds himself to remember to thank Emily for making this so much easier. She always surprised him.

"Why? She said they mattered, but she wouldn't tell me why."

"Because...Claire, I...they're kind of...true."

--

They reach the end of the road, and it spills into the beach. The next step is softer, cushioned by sand.

"True?"

He sighs. "Yes." And then it hits him that he really is stupid, or just can't think anymore, can't think with her here, because if he was thinking at all, he would have waited to tell her, because he can't live without her anymore.

"Claire, promise me you won't run away. I'm not bad, we're not bad, we're not monsters. Please, Claire, I couldn't stand it if you--" He's not above begging.

"I promise," she says, but looks puzzled. "What do you mean, true?"

"I mean...we're all...werewolves."

Claire's foot catches on a protruding rock, and Quil's arms are around her waist before she falls even an inch. She gasps from the shock of his burning hands on her bare skin, where her shirt was pushed up. He quickly sets her back.

"How does this answer...anything?" She frowns, and Quil has to close his eyes and look away, because _god she's beautiful_.

This time her hand grasps his, because his fear is practically radiating off of him, and she feels increasingly uneasy.

"There's a quirk, sort of, that we have. It's called imprinting." His voice is detached, floating.

"Imprinting...?"

"Yeah."

"And this is what happened to you." It's not a question.

Quil sighs. "Yes."

Claire waits, and he sighs again, running his hand through his hair. Claire recognizes some sort of nervous habit, and a feeling of _something_ erupts in the pit of her stomach.

"Claire, you have to understand, that this, what I--what we have, it's not--there's nothing wrong with it. It might seem a little--but really, Claire, please, understand, that it's..." He closes his eyes. He's been doing that a lot lately. He knows he's butchering this, but he feels calm anyways. He knows it's going to turn out all right--but if it doesn't, at least he's seen her. At least she'll know.

--

_Lighten up, Quil,_ says Embry's voice in his head. _You're being paranoid. This is _Claire_. She came here, didn't she?_

"What's imprinting, Quil?" Claire asks.

Quil takes steps along the sand, and Claire quickly follows. He clenches the hand that isn't surrounding hers into a fist. "It's...Jake, he once described it as...gravity moves. When you see your imprint, it's like...nothing else matters. Well, it does, but...when I saw you, it was..."

"Your letter," she murmurs.

"What?" He stops walking.

"Nothing."

"Anyways...yeah. I imprinted on...uh, you. Yeah."

"So what does that mean?"

"What do you mean, what does it mean?" Somehow they've turned and are facing each other. Claire's facing the ocean.

"You know." Her eyes find his and he looses his train of thought.

"It means that I love you forever, Claire, no matter what." Claire barely hears him, and she thinks that maybe it's just a whisper on the wind.

"That doesn't freak me out as much as it should," she says. She tries to hide the fact that it conjures a very different emotion in her.

He breathes out a sigh. "Good." His hand reaches up, brushes her cheek. It's always easier when he's touching her.

He crushes her in a hug, and they stand for minutes, hours, they don't really know...Quil realizes her shoulders are shaking, and he pulls back.

"Claire? Claire, don't cry, why are you..."

"I'm not--it's because I'm _happy_, Quil, I really can't believe--it's just _you_ and..." She stops when his hands cradle her face and his thumbs wipe under her eyes. He's so gentle, as if she's made of tissue paper. His fingers brush over her face, feeling, memorizing. Over her cheekbones and lips--they part and he feels short, cool breath on his fingers.

They stand for what feels like hours--but maybe it actually is, Claire thinks, when she sees the sun sinking lower and lower in the sky across the ocean. Claire thinks that, yeah, she hardly knows him, and yeah, he says they're soul mates, and yeah, that's a little weird, but she couldn't think of anything else she'd rather be doing. Or rather, anyone else she'd rather be with.

--

Quil feels slightly drunk. Or high, or something, he doesn't really know. He remembers when Embry kept trying to get him drunk. It didn't work.

Well, it worked, sure, but it didn't _help_.

_God_, if it means being with her, he _loves_ being drunk. Passing out and _everything_.

He mumbles something incoherent into her hair. He never actually thought he'd ever see her again, really. Now he could be truthful with himself, and think that, and know that's the truth, because he wouldn't have been able to think of that when she was so far away.

--

Dear Claire,

It would be impossible for me to say in words to your face how...see? I can't even do it on paper. I can't even say what I feel to have you back here, again, and you can't imagine what...

I don't think I should embarrass myself _further_ trying to tell you. It's just I see you all the time, and I can't help thinking about what if you were _always here_, and...always here.

The weeks pass and every day I'm scared you're leaving, your mom's going to call, Sam's going to--and every day you stay. You laugh with Embry and Seth and Jacob and never fail to be _Claire_.

Well, I guess that would make sense, seeing that you _are_ Claire.

But I'd rather anything, anything to _have_ happened, but now you're here and really, that's all that matters.

Please don't be freaked out by the imprinting thing. It's really...not a big deal, and...you don't have to worry about it, if you don't want to.

Don't let Embry torture you too much. And about Jake? Just ask him.

Quil

--

"...and she...what?"

"Left."

Claire gapes at Jacob. "What? This is after her...boyfriend...left her in..."

"Tatters, literally, yeah." Jacob smiles in a sort of pained way, as if remembering something funny and--painful. "Almost literally." The smiles changes to a grimace.

"Hypocrite," Claire mutters.

Jake grins. "Yeah, sort of."

"Sort of? She just _leaves_ you _right_ _after_ you had helped her..._god_, Jake. I'm sorry to say it, but you're really better off without her." A shadow crosses his face and she wonders if she's said too much.

"Yeah, I am, really." He sits up. "But Claire? Just don't do that to Quil, leave like that."

"I'm not...planning on it." She frowns. Does he actually think she'd leave, just like that? "And anyways, I don't have anything to go back to."

--

"He what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. What'd he tell you?"

"He just told me about the girl..."

"Yeah, and after that?"

"How d'you know...oh, fine, he just told me never to leave you." Claire crosses the room in a few steps. Quil runs his fingers through his hair.

"Okay," he mutters. "Jake is such a..."

"No, he's..." Claire brushes Quil's face with her fingers, feather-light. "Right. I guess."

"Mm." His eyes close, blink, open again. She's staring into his bottomless chocolate brown eyes, and she can't...

"Uh, Claire?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

--

Once he starts, he can't stop. He knew this would happen, that once his lips touched hers there was no going back. He knew from when he first _saw_ her that there was no going back.

Embry slams open the door (is that even possible?) and they don't even move, and he stares at them for a second then lets out a loud "finally!" and ducks out.

He just can't get enough of her, of her whisper-soft lips and raven hair and _god_ she's beautiful. He knows how ridiculous they must look, but really? who's looking? all twisted and her fingers are through his hair...and he can't seem to care Sam could walk in any second, just like Embry. He doesn't care.

He can't get enough of her, his fingers brush over her face, eyes, cheekbones, pull back to look at her, kiss her again, because _god why can't he stop_?

His body's not listening to his brain, but really, why would he want to stop anyways?

--

She needs air. She needs air but she's not pulling away because she can't, because then she'd have to think about something other than him.

But he untangles his fingers from her hair, pulls away his lips. She's gasping for breath, can't catch it, not because she hasn't breathed in what feels like a very long time, but because...

God, he's looking at her like...why did his eyes have to be so...

"Um. Sorry." He grins, sort of bashfully. She realizes that he looks _happy_. She also realizes she's against the wall. She can't remember going there. Quil steps back a bit, looking slightly sheepish.

"Just because it was unexpected doesn't mean it was bad, Quil..." She doesn't even know what she's saying. She can't think straight.

"Yeah. Yeah. Not bad."

"That's all? Just not bad?" She smiles faintly at him.

He laughs. "Of course not! Silly Claire..."

--

She laughs nervously. She thinks back. She doesn't think she's been this nervous, _ever_. Or this happy.

Dammit, she can't look in his eyes and she can't _not_ look in his eyes. They meet and her eyes dart away, flick between his eyes and the wall behind him.

He's not sure whether her looking all embarrassed is good or bad, so he pulls her to him, buries his face in her hair, breathes in her scent.

Her arms wrap around his shoulders. He feels her eyelashes against his skin, her breath cool. Her shoulders shake, nails dig into his back. His skin is wet with her tears.

He hates seeing her cry. It must be the worst feeling in the world, he thinks.

"Claire? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing--" Her face is buried against him but he can feel her cry.

A thought crosses his mind as a shadow crosses his face, settles in his eyes. "It's not--"

She nods. "I'm sorry, I just thought of him--couldn't not, couldn't--I couldn't..." She takes a deep, shuddering breath, lets it out and ends up how she started. "I can't...I can't remember...since I came here--Quil, I..."

"Claire. Claire, it's okay. Don't think about him. You don't have to."

"I can't not! I don't con--control every--I don't stop myself--I can't stop myself from thinking--" The tears are pouring down her face as she pulls away from him. He stands helplessly. "I can't--it's not--"

"Claire, please, what--"

"You have no idea! You don't know--you don't understand--"

"I don't understand? At least you didn't even know! I had to live this long knowing what I was missing!" His fists clench as the images and cloudy scenes flash in his mind.

"I did! I did know! Because of you--why did you have to write--why did you have to write to me when you knew that I'd know--you just wanted--" She backs away from him. "You just--"

"What are you talking about? I never wanted anything for you other than you to be--"

"Don't! Don't even...I don't...I can't, don't, please..."

He feels each time a tear drops off her face to the floor it's like a knife in his heart.

"What are you talking about?" He whispers.

--

"Well, so why aren't you leaving?"

Claire looks at Jacob and sighs. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Aw, come on, Claire."

"What? Why do you even care?" She snaps.

He frowns. "I think you know the answer to that question. But you still haven't answered mine."

"Why don't I leave?" She stands up, paces back and forth. "Even though I made a complete fool of myself and it hurts like hell I'm still not leaving because that would mean going back to New York."

"How did you make a complete fool of yourself?"

She throws her hands up in the air. "I kiss him, or he kisses me, whatever, then I completely break down and say random stuff about how some other guy got his hands too far up my shirt and down my pants and then start crying and doing stupid things and why am I telling you this?"

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who? Are you talking about?" There's something in his expression that reminds her too much of Quil.

"Just some guy my so-called friends made me go out with. A jerk. It doesn't matter."

"Did you tell him to stop?"

"Why are you going all protective on me now, Jake?"

"I'm not--okay, whatever. What does that have to do with Quil?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters, Claire. I'm not going to let it be that easy for you to leave. Didn't you promise not to?"

She bites her lip. "Jake--I didn't know--I don't know, what he does to me, I don't..."

"Don't tell me you don't like it, Claire. You have something a lot of people would give anything for. Don't waste it."

"But I--"

"Fine, then. Leave. Leave him, then. Do what you like."

--

Quil--

I'm too much of a coward to talk to you to your face, so I'm writing you this. It feels so much like old times, and I don't know whether that's good or bad. Sometimes I miss it, but then I think of now, and of how much it hurt to be away from you...

Anyway. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done that, any of that, and I shouldn't have mentioned--anything.

Quil. I don't know what to think. Everything's all...

I think I really do love you, Quil. Really. There can't be any other explanation for how I'm feeling, how much it hurts, even though I know you're right there. It's so stupid, to fight over stupid things, when we missed so much time, too much time.

I'm sorry.

Claire.

--

"Don't do that again, Claire, don't you dare..." Quil tries as hard as he can not to cry as he holds her as close as he can. "You did nothing wrong, nothing..."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she keeps on murmuring. "I'm sorry..."

He presses his lips to the top of her head, to her forehead, cheeks, finally her lips.

"I love you, Claire, I love you, I love you..."

After all, she said it first.

--

"You don't want to talk about it?" Quil and Jacob are both staring at her. She squirms uncomfortably.

"No, I don't want to talk about it."

"Claire..."

"I'm sure."

"You should."

"Jake, I just don't, okay?" She draws her knees up to her chin. Quil frowns at her.

"Why?"

"Why? Uh..." She gives up trying to explain it, trying to deny, to refuse. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

Jacob looks slightly surprised and Quil looks a bit scared.

"Who was it?"

"What, do you want his name? Address? So what? You can go beat him up?"

"I was more thinking about the killing part." It's the first time Quil's spoken, and it's soft but overflowing.

"_Quil_."

"What, you don't want him killed?"

"I never said that, I just don't want you guys to become murderers just for that. He's across the country, I'm never seeing him again."

"Claire?" Jake frowns even more than he already is. Quil glances at him, his eyes masked.

"What?"

"Did he..."

"What?"

"Did he...?"

"No."

Quil closes his eyes.

"No."

--

"Claire?"

"Hm?" Claire opens her eyes and looks into Quil's wide brown ones.

"I'm sorry." They close. His eyelashes brush against his skin.

"For what?"

"I'm sorry I didn't try to find you. I'm sorry I didn't try harder to help you."

Claire sighs, and Quil feels her body rise and fall against his.

"You couldn't have done anything. You did all you could."

"I didn't do anything."

"You wrote." Her eyes meet his again and he looks away.

"Wrote," he repeats. "Yeah."

Claire takes another deep breath, says, "Quil, stop it."

"Yeah."

"Quil. You could never have done anything. Nothing's your fault. Just stop."

"Yeah."

Claire presses her lips to his, wraps her arms around him, pulls him close.

"Yeah."

--

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter  
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here  
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun  
and I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces  
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here  
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun  
and I say it's all right

-Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles


End file.
